To Not Care
by squarened
Summary: Rosalie often told herself she didn’t care. Most of the time it was true. But as of recently, it had transformed into a comforting mantra that wasn’t necessarily accurate. Simply, comforting, and that was not enough for Rosalie. K plus for language.


_A/N: This fic is for a prompt community on Livejournal. This is my first time writing in primarily in Rosalie's PoV, but I enjoyed writing it.  
_

_Thanks to itssteph24 for helping me out :)_

Rosalie often told herself she didn't care. Most of the time it was true. But as of recently, it had transformed into a comforting mantra that wasn't necessarily accurate. Simply, comforting, and that was not enough for Rosalie. If she found herself truly caring about this –and everything else, while she was at it- then she would be the weaker of the two.

She knit her pretty brow in frustration. Perhaps, if what was plaguing her mind wasn't quite so trivial, she wouldn't be half as vexed by the whole situation as she was. And she knew it was silly of her, but she honestly didn't understand it. How could Edward Cullen dislike her so much? She'd never seen such a disdainful look on a man's face –at least not when one was looking at _her. _He hardly said two words to her. In fact, the day of her change, Edward abruptly made the decision that he needed to go hunting, and, no, it couldn't wait.

_What an arrogant, cowardly, bastard,_ she thought, with great cheer, to herself. It made her feel a little better, that she could look down on him, on some level, and see such a flaw in his character.

The grandfather clock in the dining room chimed three lugubrious chimes that echoed about the empty house. They pounded against Rosalie's ears harshly. She was once again reminded of how lonely she was now. Her new 'parents' –though she still felt uncomfortable with the title Esme and Carlisle had insisted upon- had gone to some hospital function, and Edward –though she hardly counted him as company, even if he were around- hadn't been around at all. Gone were the days of almost constant appraisal, and friends, and admirers. And for what? This non-life? Was this what she was meant for? Surely she didn't deserve it. She'd been frivolous and proud and ignorant, but was that so wrong in a young girl? She was still in shock. The memory of that last night was still vivid and fresh in her mind.

And to think of who had brought this hell to her –her fiancée, the one man she though she could trust. Maybe they weren't as close as Vera and her husband, but she'd never have dreamt in her wildest dreams that Royce would force himself on her. She could hardly even think the word –it was in itself such a wretched word.

She was a confused muddle of sorrow and fury. Rosalie didn't know how to handle feeling so emotional. She'd never been the emotional type, and whenever she did feel moody, she put up an icy facade. It helped a little, for people to not really know what she was feeling, but she'd never dealt with issues of the like of the ones she was dealing with now.

She imagined taking revenge on Royce for what he'd done to her. Who did he take her for? She wasn't just a pretty face. She was Rosalie Lillian Hale, the most beautiful and desired girl of Rochester. She would show him who she was. She would make him regret ever crossing her. She found herself getting caught up in her elaborate fantasy of doing away with Royce. This fantasy had begun merely hours after she regained consciousness from her change and often found herself since then fantasizing about exacting her revenge. Though, now, she was quite certain it was more of a plan, than a mere daydream.

She was just getting to the part where Royce pleaded pathetically for mercy and forgiveness, when Rosalie heard footsteps on the stairs up to the back porch. Her nose wrinkled very slightly at the scent –Edward's. Her first instinct was to get up and leave the kitchen, so Edward wouldn't see her when he first came in, at the very least, but then she decided it was cowardly and waited, still as a statue for him to come in and face her.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw Rosalie, and it looked like he was about to turn right back around.

She raised an eyebrow. "It's nice to see you too, Edward."

His shoulders stiffened and Rosalie felt he peered down his nose at her, though with out physically doing so. "Rosalie," he acknowledged curtly, before quickly exiting the kitchen.

She listened to his hastened steps, through the living room, and up the stairs. He paused for a moment, before opening the door to his room, and closing it soundly.

Rosalie told herself she didn't care about Edward Cullen.

Regardless, she found herself following him up to his room. She didn't go with anything in mind to say to Edward, but she was really going to let him have it.

Right as she raised her fist to knock on his closed door, it was torn open. Edward stepped out and closed the door behind him. He crossed his arms. "We don't need to have this conversation," he said firmly.

"I beg to differ," Rosalie said as civilly as she could manage.

He rolled his eyes. "Honestly. You never liked me, I never liked you -I don't see what else there is to say."

"You expect me to believe that's all there is to it?" He was as bad as Royce, she concluded, if he was going to take her for granted as some dumb blonde.

Edward's upper lip rose very slightly in a look of utter disgust. "You mean to compare me to _Royce? _Just because you're too full of yourself to think it's possible that some one may not like you?" His expression turned mockingly sympathetic. "That's a rather tragic personality flaw."

Rosalie was shocked at first that Edward had seen the insult she hadn't wanted him to hear, when she remembered his convenient talent. "Stop that," she snapped, haughtily. "It's rude to look into people's business."

"Believe me, I don't want to know other people's business. I can't really control it."

Rosalie didn't think that was true, but didn't see the point in pushing the argument. And she found herself losing track of her original mission. "But why do you act like you're so revolted by me? I haven't done anything to you."

He sighed deeply, but didn't answer. Edward himself considered the possibility that he was being a bit too hard on her, but she'd certainly failed to make a decent impression on him, and he couldn't stand her stand offish, and overly defensive attitude. Not to mention he was growing increasingly impatient, and didn't know if he could stand another tension filled minute.

"What I am revolted by," Edward said, with a harsh lilt to his velvet soft voice, "is that your mind is every bit as disturbing as the murderers, rapists, and sociopaths I came across when I left Carlisle and Esme. Not only that, but I have to share a home with you." He continued to stare at Rosalie, not breaking his intense gaze to even blink.

Rosalie didn't know how to begin to form a retort to such an accusation. She felt horribly offended and violated that Edward would dare to pick out such a private and sensitive occupation of her mind. She struggled to keep a straight face, though she felt practically winded that he knew of her plans. The only retort she could pull together in the moment was a half growled, "You don't know what you're talking about."

Edward sighed. He really didn't think any part of this conversation beneficial in any way to his relationship to Rosalie. "I think I have a pretty good idea," he said dismissively.

"No," Rosalie said, with more force behind her words, now. "You really don't." She expected Edward to come back at her with an argument, but he remained silent, his expression indifferent. "I had everything going for me. I was going to have beautiful babies, I was going to get married, and live in a nice big house with lawns and gardens. You can't imagine how that feels to lose everything you had with in the span of one, God forsaken, night."

Edward shook his head. "Don't be unreasonable. I know that you lost a lot, and I don't really think I can even fathom the extent of it –not to mention the total breach of your trust- but your… fantasies are especially gruesome. And you obviously get enjoyment out of them. It's very hard to stand sharing a solace with a person like that." He felt pleased with himself for maintaining a reasonable tone, and coming off as somewhat genial, but he could tell Rosalie was almost too furious for words.

"Obviously you can't fathom what I've gone through," Rosalie sneered harshly. "If you had an ounce of sympathy, I don't think we'd be having this conversation."

"Probably not," Edward agreed. "Although, I don't think we should be having it anyway, seeing as neither one of us is about to change their opinion."

"You're an ass," Rosalie said bluntly.

One coppery eyebrow slid slightly up his brow, in a mixture of amusement and irritation. "Thanks for your honesty."

"No, I'm serious."

"I know."

Rosalie felt she'd said all she could say. She wasn't about to go out of her way to say the last word, only to make a fool of herself. And so, with that, she wordlessly turned on her heal, and went back to the kitchen. To continue to soak in her frustration. To continue to not care.

_A/N: So, yeah. Reviews would be appreciated :D_


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